Stories Better Left Untold
by fakegodsanddemigods
Summary: Rose wakes up in a motel room screaming. Her nightmares are back. She's yet to tell Dean about her stay in Purgatory. She wasn't sure how. But the more often she wakes up screaming, the more she realizes it's time to talk.


A shrill scream pierced the silence in the hotel room and Rose woke with a start, her eyes searching for the source of the sound. The sight of Dean settling himself onto the end of her bed was the first indication that the scream had been her own. The second was the fact that her throat felt like someone had shoved a fork down it. You didn't get that feeling without screaming…more than once. "How long?"

"Ten minutes. Non stop." He looked over at her, frowning. It wasn't necessarily that he was upset that she was keeping him up…he was more concerned about the fact that for three nights in a row she'd screamed herself awake.

Rose hadn't mentioned much about where she'd come from. She'd told him about the Doctor and she'd told him about her travels. But beyond that, she'd stayed quiet. She had eventually told him that she was supposed to be dead. It had been a conversation over drinks that wasn't supposed to have happened. She mentioned Purgatory and climbing out but nothing in depth. Drunken rambles. And neither of them had really brought it up afterwards. It would come up when it needed to come up.

But now the nightmares were back. All of them. Images of Purgatory and the things she'd seen and done…all of them were coming back to her. Rose had never forgotten, not completely. But for the longest time she couldn't put her finger on the details. She could remember how she'd gotten there and what the place looked like, but she hadn't been able to remember what had happened or how she'd gotten out. But slowly, very slowly, all of it was starting to find its way back to her. And it was terrifying.

"Nightmares?" He had never been good at any of the touchy feely stuff, but he could listen. He could try to offer an ear and advice, but that was the extent of it.

She nodded and pulled her knees to her chest before running a hand through her hair. She couldn't keep doing this. Hiding everything and dealing with it on her own, but she wasn't even sure where to begin. Talking about it made it real. It meant acknowledging the person she had become for a while. But she'd come so far…

"Talk to me, Rose."

Rose swallowed hard and looked up at him. Her mouth was dry and she was trying so hard to find the right words to say. "Did you know that laying down your gun and stepping into a hostile zone counts as suicide. If you go into it without caring what happens to you…Apparently the best way of punishing someone who commits suicide is to throw them into a place that doesn't let them stay dead." At least that's the way she'd rationalized it. It didn't matter much to her how right or wrong she was.

Dean didn't say a word. It was the first time she'd ever told him about it…the first time she'd mentioned actually dying. And they were sober. And it explained just why she hadn't been too surprised to know what he did with his life. "You got out."

"I did terrible things, Dean. I helped kill things and people over and over and over again. I tried to get into Lucifer's good graces…I was told that if I did enough damage, he'd take me under his wing or give my body a purpose and being a vessel for a demon seemed a hell of a lot more appealing than being stuck in some wasteland where I was hunted for all eternity. At least no one stayed dead…and at least I came to my senses before anything happened to me…" It sounded selfish. She knew that. And she still didn't know whether her perceptions were right…she'd never thought to ask him.

"I lost myself. I lost all of who I was. I was told that I'd forget where I came from if I didn't tell my story and that didn't seem like such a bad idea. But I forgot all of it. I didn't remember why I was there or who I was. I lost everything that made me Rose and I turned into something I wasn't proud of. I killed so many people, Dean…That's what I see in my dreams. Everyone I hurt, everyone I tore apart in the name of a fallen angel. They haunt me. And I can't remember their names. I don't even know if I ever knew them." She fell silent, tears falling down her cheeks as she looked at him. It was the first time she'd spoken any of it out loud. It was the first time she'd admitted to any of it. And it scared her.

Rose didn't remember getting out of Purgatory. She remembered meeting someone who reminded her of who she was, who forced her to tell her story. And she remembered waking up in the woods somewhere. Everything in between was black. "I don't remember anything else…None of it. I don't know what else I did."

Dean stared at her. He didn't reach out for her, his eyes had held nothing. He was silent for a long moment and when he spoke, his words were unfeeling. "You were going to give your body to a demon…"

"I didn't know any better, Dean. I didn't, though. Doesn't that count?" Her voice raised as she grew more upset at his words. She had hoped he would understand. Had needed him to understand.

He shook his head and stood from the bed without looking at her. He slipped into his jacket and grabbed the keys to the Impala. "I'm sleeping in the car. I'll get something to eat in the morning."

Without a word, Rose let him walk out. The slam of the door seemed to echo through the room as she sat there. Maybe telling her story had never been the best idea. Telling her story had made everyone run. Maybe it was best left to be forgotten.

She lay back against her pillows and rolled onto her side with her back to the door. It was going to be a long night.

And she wouldn't have been surprised to wake up to the sound of the Impala pulling away.


End file.
